This place is basically hell. After the Portal and when at least most of the Basin had showed up in more or less one piece, she’d taken off to explore. Was it stupid to travel alone? Yes, it definitely was stupid, but that doesn’t stop her. Raven stays curled on her back, and as she flies, she’s cautious. She’s still not sure what pieces of her magic are left from the soul-sucking Portal, though her rune is still there so she knows her resurrection is still around. She hasn’t tried to shift and for the moment, she’s not going to. Raven’s too weak to fly on his own, or so she thinks, and their bond is on the damn fritz. Plus, she has no idea what raven-eating creatures might be out for a nice fly with her today.
The place isn’t that big, or at least not that she can manage to get to. That’s probably deceiving, because there’s dark magic hanging all over this place like a clingy ex-girlfriend and then some. When the island comes into view, she’s almost convinced it’s a mirage. Some trick, like her mind just wants to see something real. It would make a terrible home for the Basiner’s, given that she has no clue how most of them would get here easily. It’s not really near much of anything that she can see. A shame, because if it’s as good as it looks….
Nothing is as good as it looks. Still, she lets herself drift down toward the island. It’s smells sweet and lovely and beautiful, so unlike everything else in this place. Her feet touch land and the place doesn’t immediately eat her. “Shall we?” she asks, and Raven gives a pathetic little chirp in response. He never chirps, he caws, loud and proud of everything he is. Worry creases her eyes for a brief moment before she plunges into the tropical paradise, wondering what’s about to eat her alive.
Her mind was foggy, a swirling mass of nothingness. That is what the heavy magic here in the Rift does. It strips you to your very soul and casts you aside when you have nothing left to give. Of course, there are a few places where you can escape the dark. Places where you can't feel the beading eyes staring at you. She stares ahead at one such place, an island of light. Where small creatures feed on the candied fruit that grows from the groves of trees. She steps forward, the ocean that lays between her and the forgotten refuge lapping around her canon bones. With a breath, she closes her eyes, entering the water deeper until it splashed around her chest. The way is a long swim, but if she could manage to control her transformation magic, it would be an easy one. There...the feeling of her body shifting. It hurts, oh how it hurts, but the pain is something that she must endure. Almost like her bones are breaking to make way for her aquatic form, and for a moment she cried out.
But she succeeded.
In her place floated a massive ray. The rainbow of colors that marked her hide now shone brightly on leathery skin. She didn't have long, but the magic rendered her paralyzed for a moment. Her nostrils, now replaced with gills, swelled and started to sort out oxygen from the water. She tested her watery wings, letting the tide take her out further into the deep. Satisfied, she propelled herself forward, staying close to the surface but never breaking it. She needed to hurry if she didn't want to get stranded in the middle of the ocean. Already she could feel the strain of the magic pulsating in her head. She held on, watching as the shore slowly grew closer. She will have to practice her magic. It certainly seems handy.
As a heavy exhaustion started to set in, she was finally close enough to let her magic dissipate. The agonizing feeling of shifting back to her normal form made her clench her teeth, tears mixing with the salty sea. Her hooves clambered up the rocky shore, pulling her closer to the beach. The sand felt warm as she collapsed upon it, lungs screaming for air.
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of blue and white descended on the island. Her head twisted around, straining to see where the flyer went. Was it one of them? Her curiosity peaked, and she struggled to stand and go look for it. With wobbly legs, she entered the trees, sending out a resounding greeting to whoever had landed. After all, this place hasn't been tainted by the dark. Why should she worry?
The mare that finds her is a new level of weird. There’d been a lot of weird appearances in Helovia, and a lot of weird creatures on her travels, so she’s not shocked, but it’s obvious enough this is a new type of thing. No, not a thing, a horse, just a horse that had glowing orbs of light all over spikes on her back, kind of like those predator fish that linger in the bottom of the sea.
Weaver was on edge before, but now she’s completely on edge. Not that it shows though, because she never shows such a thing. For that matter, she could probably take the mare in front of her, if it came to that, but at the moment the only thing that’s happened in a friendly greeting. She shouldn’t worry. She has no reason to worry, except that even she thinks this place is basically a living hell. And if anyone would know, it’s her.
Still, she makes her way closer, the rest of the mare coming into better view. Truthfully, she’s a beautiful thing, even if she still reminds Weaver of those nasty predator fish. Hopefully the mare doesn’t have teeth remotely like those things. Raven pricks his head up slightly to look, though he doesn’t caw in greeting and quickly settles back down to nestle in the cape on her back. Weaver keeps the worry from her face, but she’s still worried about the little bird. The portal did something to him, and she has no idea how to find out what.
“Hello,” she says, because what else does she say? You look like a fish isn’t a great way to greet the natives probably, though the words almost slip out. Instead, she remembers her manners, introducing herself instead. “I’m Weaver. Are you from around here?” She cocks a back hoof as she talks, settling in, giving off a casual air even if she feels anything but casual right about now.
07-17-2017, 09:41 AM (This post was last modified: 07-17-2017, 09:42 AM by Moä Te.)
you lose yourself
trying to hold on to nothing
Moä Te finds the stranger's presence odd, but there hasn't been anything not odd these past few days. Still, a small part of her wished that the other hadn't found the little island. It could be the last place left here that she could be alone. The census of souls in the Rift has just skyrocketed, and she is sure she saw some pregnant mares as she spied from the shadows. Soon there will be more of them then the natives. The thought made her heart skip, a furrow forming on her brow as she moved. She, of course, would defend her home from the others, while hoping that they can jut turn tail and return to where ever they came from. She has a feeling that it was a one way trip though.
The glowing mare finally came into proximity of the winged other, first feeling their eyes upon her skin. Her ears pricked back, a taste of dislike forming as she stood under their judgement. If anything, she should be judging them. They are the intruders. They entered her home without permission and crushed the luminescent foliage as they huddled in groups. This other, however, showed no malice towards her as a greeting was passed her way. And she had been the one to call out first. She felt conflicted.
Moä Te let her ears rise back up, offering a slight smile. She might as well play nice. She could maybe gain some information about what is going on. "I am." She started out answering the other's question, a note of pride filling her already accented voice. She was almost surprised that the other could communicate in the same language. "And you are not. I am Moä Te." She watches as the other...as Weaver props up a foot like its just another day. But as much as she wanted to come across as calm, the air surrounding her reeked of anything but. Moä Te cocked her head, wondering why she was pretending, but quickly shrugged it off. It may just be her way of keeping her composure. "Tell me, Weaver. Have you tasted the fruit of the Key?"
If the mare wanted a casual conversation, she would give it. Questions burned through her mind however, and she struggled not to blurt them out. Where are you from? What do you want? Can you go back? What do you have to offer? Instead, she shifted her weight, stretching her neck to grasp a brightly colored fruit between her teeth. An incredibly succulent taste washed over her tongue, the juice dribbling down her throat. She motioned towards another bearing plant near the winged one. "You look like you need something sweet. They are not poisonous, I promise. Just don't eat too much. I can help heal your mind, but you will have to deal with a stomachache on your own."
She would love to turn tail and get the hell out of here, but where would she possibly go? This place was connected to nothing, as far as she could figure out. The Portal seemed like a one-way trip, probably leading into nothing but the blackness that swallowed her home whole. Trust her, she’s tired of moving and was very happy to have settled in the Basin. The place had been perfect, had suited her, and she’s liked the members. You really think she wants to be here? It’s this that grates her more than anything, this strange feeling of actually missing a place. She’s never really missed anything or anyone, not even her family who she left behind without a backward glance.
The members of the Basin were here, scattered about, but here. They’d all found one another in the Portal, had at least made certain they were alive and well, but then they’d gone their own way. What else were they supposed to do? She hates not knowing they are safely tucked away in a mountain though, hates not having some place to go and find them all. It would be with sheer luck that they ran into each other now and though she imagines they will, in fact, run into one another it’s not the same.
So yea, she’d love to get the hell out of here too and leave the Riftians to their hell-hole, but that option was ripped from beneath her by their own Gods. An eye for an eye and all that, yea, but the only people paying for it are the ones who didn’t start the damn war. The fish-mare is not entirely pleasant at first, but then her ears prick up and she’s nice enough. She does not question that Weaver isn’t from here, but offers it like a statement, like Weaver doesn’t damn well know she’s not from here. Whatever, she doesn’t really blame the mare. After all, Weaver’s always been best with blunt conversations.
She looks calm enough, having always been good at hiding her emotions. It would be a strange magic that let someone see beneath her mask, but those magics exist, and others, like Mortuus, just sort of figured her out. Her mask was good, but it wasn’t perfect, a fact that she was annoyed with and intended to work on. The mare doesn’t say anything though, so Weaver has no idea what she’s thinking, and when the topic of conversation turns to fruit she does her best to care. Though as the mare describes it more…what? “Heal my mind?” she repeats in a question, wondering what kind of fruit requires mind healing in the first place.
This does not stop her from taking a bite of the fruit that the mare gestures too, hoping like hell it’s as fun as Mortuus’s recreational drugs had been. She could use that sweet bliss, not just the sweetness on her tongue. Though the flavor of the fruit is quite enjoyable, and she’s thankful for something that doesn’t seem likely to kill her on sight. She savors it for a moment, feeling no effects that might hint at something more fun to come. Damn. They better have drugs somewhere in this place.
“Any chance you can tell me…” she pauses, thinking for a moment and then shaking her head with what looks like a genuine smile, a strange thing that curves only half her mouth. “Hell, I don’t even know what. Anything about this place would be helpful.”
The glowing mare watches silently as Weaver seems to get lost in her thoughts, fruit juice dribbling down her chin. A slight grin stretched her lips as the other mare seemed to question the healing magic that was mentioned, but it seems her words were lost in the communication. Are these strangers that dull? She grins again, now watching the winged one take a bite of the fruit...and seems to enjoy it. Good. Moä Te props a foot up, settling in for a back and forth of questions while the darker mare throws some words her way. Her head cocked to one side, she stays silent for a moment. Anything helpful? There are things that she could share with the mare, although they may just make her turn tail and dash away. She can't have that, not until her own questions are answered.
"Yes, I do suppose you all are lost here without any knowledge." She starts off with the fact that these strangers are just that...Strangers. Moä Te meets Weavers eyes. "I could tell you about the dangers and the joys, the Gods and our magic, so I guess it's more a question of what you want to know. How about this? I will tell you whatever you want to know, but in return I would like some answers as well. The fact that the fruit here is sweet and refreshing is a freebie. Here is another one. This place was beautiful, a true paradise rules by the four Gods. But our Gods were tainted by darkness, and so the Rift fell into shadows. We all became overwhelmed with the sickness."
Her once soft voice became stern, a story of her home's past bringing a sharp edge to it. "There was great battles. Foreign gods conquered, but a part of each deity remained. Thus Kisamoa was born. And, as far as I know, Kisamoa destroyed the foreign gods and brought back our light and magic. That was the day you, and all who came with you fell into our world." With a curt nod, she motioned toward Weaver, expecting her side of the story. "Tell me, Weaver. What do you know of this?"
Her stance, though not a threatening one, held a stern pose. Her icy eyes demanded words from the mare, and so she sat, ears pricked.
There’s about nothing that will make Weaver turn tail and dash away. As much as she would prefer to return to Helovia, the one thing she is not is a coward. Never has been, even before Death granted her the power of resurrection. She’d fought the four horsemen of the apocalypse as a child. The Rift, in comparison, was not as terrible as that, though that fight was temporary. The Rift seems like a permanent hell hole, because she’s not sure how they are supposed to get out of this place or turn it into home. The natives probably don’t want them here, though she’s assuming that. The place is definitely an acid trip gone wrong (she would know). It’s not her home, but somehow, it would have to be.
Weaver’s smile spreads slightly, her amber eyes full of mischief as the mare offers to answer questions in return for Weaver doing the same. “My type of game,” she says by way of agreement, falling silent as Moa Te continues, offering the story at the Riftian’s knew it. There were, of course, two sides to each story, though it sounded like the Rift went to hell before the Helovian Gods came and took even more from this place. Seriously, she’s beginning to think this place is actually one of the first layers of hell. Kaos shoved them all through a portal that killed them and stuck them in purgatory.
“Kisamoa is a mask for a god known as Kaos in Helovia. 'I am Kaos' can be spelled from the letters of Kisamoa. He came to us as a god of the sea, seeking to befriend everyone in Helovia and get their help cleaning the marshes and beaches. We helped, collecting bones, a suspicious enough thing in and of itself. Those bones became a monster that kept us from attacking, and slowly, Kaos leeched his power through Helovia. He deceived even the four Helovian gods. When he was ready, he destroyed Helovia and gave us a choice; go through the Portal or die. Not a great choice. Our gods died trying to stop him or at least protect us, and so here we are.” Pawns is someone else’s war. She would have been perfectly happy living in Helovia without their gods, but that choice didn’t exist.
“Can you tell me of your gods and the sickness?” She wonders if it’s the same sickness that has Raven all sorts of messed up. She wonders too, who their gods were, if there’s anything left of them now, or was Kaos the only God at this point? Or would the magic, now restored, bring the gods back as well?
She smiled, a curt nod following Weaver's agreement. As she spoke, the glowing mare never lost Weaver's eye, She keeps her stance firm, but her face softens as she listens to the words spewing forth from the pegasus. It is true that the Rift is a hard place to live, full of danger and beauty, and she hasn't been alive long enough to remember their Gods. Still, having your deity torn from you in a bloody massacre couldn't have been easy, and her heart went out to the ones who had to witness it.
Again she nodded her crown, this time with softer movements. "Yes, I am sorry that you had to go through that, I couldn't imagine how I would handle such a situation, having to watch my brothers and sisters..." Her voice trailed off. She may witness it. She could smell a battle permeating the air like the noxious gas of a puffball. Her eyes flickered downward when asked about the sickness. She was too young to remember correctly.
"All I can say is what I know from my experience. The God's death brought this utter...darkness...to everything. It is like, time slowed down until you were nearly dead. Unable to move, unable to find each other. It crushed me. I was too young to understand, but I knew it felt like this was going to be reality from then on. They died, and Kisamoa was born. But he left to. We were alone...that is until this force woke us all up. It was almost like a fairy tale, being found by a prince in the deepest of nightmares. But it twisted our magic, mutated our bodies and spat all of you into our home. It has caused tension between us."
She peered past Weaver's shoulders, watching the fowl that sat there, continuing with a sadness in her voice.
"I don't know much about the Gods, just of what their death meant to us. I know now that their war is hardly over. It has been passed to us, and all I see is a red future."
The mare grew somber, a depressed tone weighing her down. She was glad that she got to speak some. Just saying it out loud helped her come to terms with it, but it didn't lessen the blow any. She was quiet for a moment, until she stomped a foot and brought her eyes back to Weavers.
"Every Helovian I have met has been depressed, or in such a hurry. You can't all be like that right? What was fun where you come from?"
08-09-2017, 01:32 PM (This post was last modified: 08-09-2017, 01:32 PM by Weaver.)
She didn’t care all that much about the loss of Helovia’s gods. Her god was Death, and she served no other master. The Helovian gods were simply a part of the place she’d chosen to live, and she’d accepted them as she might accept the weather or the landscape. Losing the Basin was the thing that hurt. Her home had been her choice, and she’d fought for acceptance in a land that had never before accepted those with wings. She proved her worth to a group of horses that quickly became family in a way that even her own family had never been. Sure, she loved her mother and brothers in the way one is required to love their family, but in the end, she’d left them behind and never looked back. She’d walked through the Portal with one of the Basiner’s by her side and her eyes trained behind her, searching for the rest of them. They were the ones she could not leave. They were the ones she did not want to see broken and torn apart from the inside out. They were the ones that mourned the loss of a childhood home, of a God they worshipped, and that left Weaver angry and bitter and itching to do something.
What could she do though? She could not fight Kaos. She could not bring the Basin back. She could not fix the things that had been broken. All she could do was move forward, learn from those willing to teach her, like Moa Te, explore the Rift and try not to fail again. The other mare seems to soften at the story a bit, and Weaver finds herself weirdly thankful for that. Had the Portal changed her too? She’d never cared what others thought, never minded a tough conversation for any reason, and yet here she is thankful to find someone willing to share information without glaring at her the whole time (okay fine, maybe it hadn’t been a glare).
Her words surprise Weaver a little bit more, and she is curious to ask more, but before she has the chance the mare is already moving on to the first question Weaver had asked. So she keeps her mouth shut, listening instead. “It does not have to be our war too.” Her words are determined and solid, like there’s no arguing the point that they do not have to fight one another. “We can learn to live together, work together. There has to be a better way than to play someone else’s game.” She is so, so tired of being their pawns.
“Too many died in Helovia, swallowed by the darkness Kaos brought. The Helovians carry that with them, and those in a hurry are simply trying to find their lost companions and loved ones.” Raven perks his head slightly at the mention of lost companions, and though everything about their bond has been warped and ruined by the Rift, she is glad he was not taken from her. “We are not all like that though, and most will move on with time I assume. You are probably asking the wrong girl about fun though. I was a solider. I lived on a battlefield for fun, explored the most dangerous nooks of Helovia for fun.” She laughs slightly, thinking of their adventures, of the dreams that Erebos had shared with her and how quickly those dreams had been ripped away by all this. They would have to make new dreams.
Floating Key
